O time, thou must untangle this, not I. It is too hard a knot for me t'untie.
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.
Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.
You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness!
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.
The soul of this man is his clothes.